You Are Not Alone
by frankenfeels
Summary: The Doctor re-meets the Master, both in new bodies. Spoilers for "The End of Time", Series 5, and Series 6. Cumberbatch!Master.
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: You Are Not Alone

**Author**: porpoise-song

**Characters**: The Eleventh Doctor and his companions (Amy Pond and Rory Williams (_The Ponds!_); The Master (Cumbermaster!) (If Benedict Cumberbatch ever played the Master, to clarify.)  
><strong>Rating<strong>: Pretty much a G.  
><strong>Disclaimer<strong>: Unless I want Weeping Angels and the Crack to follow me (Steven Moffat), red coats storming my place (BBC), and some 60s/70s/80s/90s dressed zombies coming after me (_Doctor Who_'s respective creators, writers, owners, producers, etc.), I need to say that I own _absolutely_ nothing.  
><strong>Summary<strong>: The Doctor gets trapped in a small room with the door and any possible way of escape deadlocked and, now, a deadly gas is about to be released into the room. However, a Man With No Name helps him out.

****Warnings**: **Nothing really. I guess some spoilers for the fifth and sixth series, for the end of the third series (the Yana bit), and for "The End of Time". But, _very light ones_.

**A/N: **I would _love _to see Benedict Cumberbatch as the Master. I tell you, if Cumberbatch became the Master I would throw my TV out because _nothing _will be as good as that. And, really, everybody wants him to be it. In addition, there's actually been some rumors that the Master _will _come back, however, in the form of Simm!Master. Honestly, there's nothing _wrong _with him, but that Master was written for the Tenth Doctor. Besides, the cast is all new and young so, thus, they need a new, fresh Master. Why not make it ole Benny? But, anyways, Cumberbatch, himself, has said that he would _not _like to do AN episode of Doctor Who. Meaning that he wouldn't want to do just ONE episode of it, not caring if it sounds pompous or not.

Here's the said interview: .com/watch?v=06yazF4SFUU (youtube, of course) and here's what I based Cumbermaster's appearance on: .com/art/DW-Rude-and-Ginger-206791587 (SirLemoncurd. deviantart). One-shot, maybe. Don't know...got too much on my plate already! One more thing, I made up the gas name—I looked over as I was typing it and spotted my Monty Python DVD collection...so I thought 'Why the hell not?'

Hope you enjoy!

* * *

><p>"Amy?" the Doctor called through the thick, metal door. "Rory?"<p>

"Doctor?" Amy sharply yelled back. "Doctor? Are you alright?"

"Yes, Amy", the Doctor walked around the tiny, dimly light room in a corybantic manner. This was why he usually went ahead of his companions to "scope" out the surroundings. He didn't want them to be trapped somewhere dangerous and unknown.

"Have you soniced the door yet?" Rory timidly asked him as his wife paced around the door, her eyes searching around the door for any access, her arms at akimbo.

"Yes", the Doctor rolled his eyes and gave out an annoyed sigh. He didn't like people, especially people like Rory, to ask him the _extreme _obvious. "But the door's deadlocked."

"You can't sonic a deadlocked door? That's rubbish."

"Oi! Dissing the screwdriver won't get me out of here!" The Doctor's voice took on an edge as he pressed his ear close to the door to hear.

"Doctor...there's a computer out here, but it's deadlocked as well", Amy gently placed her hands on the keyboard. "Maybe I can"...she trailed off as she slowly typed. "Oops", she muttered out as a beeping sound toots from the computer. Her face fell as she quickly starts to type again.

"What happened? What's that noise?" The Doctor pressed his ear even closer to the door. "What did you do Amy?" he oppugned at her.

"Uh...Doctor?" Rory stammered out, nervously, looking at the computer screen. "Something's flashing...it says that some kind of gas is being released—in two minutes."

"_Sugar_! Amy! What did you press?"

"I don't know", Amy stepped back from the computer, her hands raised. "I just pressed some keys and then it started beeping. I'm sorry!"

"Amy, Amy", the Doctor started, slowly and gently, "It's okay, just tell me what you pressed and, hopefully, it can be stopped and the door can be opened."

"Like I said, I don't know."

"Well, what kind of gas is it? Does it say what gas it is?" the Doctor glanced around the small room to not only look for an exit, but to find where the gas might come from.

Rory narrowed his eyes at the computer screen, "It says that it's 'Monty gas'—what's that?"

"Oh...this is bad—this is _extremely _very not good", Rory heard the Doctor mutter. The Doctor started to pace about the room again, rubbing his forehead with his hand.

"Doctor, what's Monty gas?" Rory asked, his eyes fearfully shifting from computer screen to the door.

"A very dangerous and lethal gas that can kill _any _living thing—it literally, _burns_ you from the inside."

"Bad, sounds very bad, indeed", Rory stammered out as he looked over the computer.

"I'm so sorry, Doctor—I didn't mean to..." Amy said brokenly, sitting down on the ground. Rory glanced over to his wife; her eyes were red and puffy, her face was streaked by tears, and her voice was choked with fear, guilt, and sorrow. Rory sighed and faced the computer again, his hands linger above the keyboard not sure what to do.

"There's no way out, Rory— I can't find an exit, _nor _can I find the vent the gas will come out of", the Doctor said gloomily.

His wife was too emotionally distraught to do anything, the Doctor was trapped in the room with a deadlocked door and no way to help; and he, Rory Williams, had to, somehow, override the system to shut off the gas and/or open the door. Either way, Rory had no idea what to do. He didn't know how to use a computer—much less hack into one. He was lucky he could check his email without causing the laptop to explode.

"Okay, Rory Williams...let's do this", he moved his fingers in apprehension above the keyboard. However, before Rory could do anything, a tall, lean figure gently pushed him away from the computer. Rory was about to yell at the man before he started, feverishly, typing. Rory shifted closer to the man to see the screen; he gaped in shock as the man, appeared, to be getting good results. Rory then studied the mysterious savior. He was tall and lean, as mentioned, with short, curly, ginger hair; sharp, piercing green eyes, like a cat, that were icy, but blazing with intensity and knowledge; a pale face that looked like it was chiseled out of marble by Michelangelo; and he was wearing all black: a long, wool trench coat, black skinny jeans, black boots, but a gray t-shirt. '_If Sherlock Holmes came to life, he would look like_ this_'_, Rory thought.

Rory envied The Man with No Name's eased skills with the computer and was, strangely, reminded of the Doctor in a way. In both appearance and in skills, Rory felt gauche and like an idiot compared to the both of them. "Who are you?" Rory managed to ask him after almost thirty seconds had gone by.

The Man turned his attentions to Rory, narrowing his eyes at him, while his long fingers continued to type; Rory felt an unknown fear brewing in the bottom of his belly. An upward curve appeared on the man's lips, almost in amusement as if he knew _exactly _what Rory was thinking, before he turned back to the computer.

The Doctor's ears perked up when he heard Rory. "Rory? Rory?" He vociferated through the door, pressing his ear against the door again. "Is there someone else out there with you two?"

Rory looked towards the door, his mouth open in shock and bewilderment. He didn't say anything because he didn't know who this helpful stranger was and, thus, didn't know what exactly to say to the Doctor. The blaring beeps stopped as the Man pressed a key, a smug look on his face, and took a step back from the computer. But another beeping occurred, "Door opening", a smooth, female voice said.

"Oh, thank you", Rory said brightly to the Man and held out his hand. "Thank you so much."

The Man didn't respond; just gave Rory a blank, but knowing look before turning and walking over to Amy, her face still streaked in distress. He bent down and placed his mouth closely to her ear, covered in her flaming red hair. Rory took an unsure step towards them, but, before he could do anything, the Man stood up and strolled down the corridor. _'More like float'_, Rory thought as he watched the man push open the door and leave.

The door opened and the Doctor jumped out, as if the room was going to explode. "What happened? What did you do? Who was here?" the Doctor stood on his toes and leaned towards Rory, making himself taller, more intimidating, and invading Rory's personal space.

"Ah", Rory glanced down at Amy to avoid the Doctor's stare, "this ginger bloke came 'round and opened the door—I guess, I don't know."

"Ginger bloke?" a confused look flashed across the Doctor's face as Rory crouched down beside his wife. "Who was he?"

Rory looked up at the Doctor, trailing his hand up and down his wife's back to comfort her. "Don't know—he didn't give a name. He didn't say a word, in fact."

"Doctor", Amy looked up at him through her long eyelashes; her face was no longer wet, but her eyes were still puffy and red, "He did say one thing to me."

"What? What did he say?" the Doctor crouched down to look Amy in the face.

"Yana." The Doctor's face fell in shock and he slowly stood back up. "What does that mean?" Amy asked him as he turned away from them. He didn't respond. "Doctor, explain!" she vociferated sharply.

Amy and Rory could see the Doctor heave out a heavy sigh. They both held their breath in anticipation and concern; they were both thinking that the Doctor scared. Scared of what? What could make this man scared? The man who's faced Weeping Angels, Daleks, and the Silence (to name a few) with courage and bravado—what could _possibly_ make him scared? And _this _scared, in addition.

"Yana", the Doctor finally muttered in a weary voice, "You Are Not Alone." He turned back to them, a hard look on his face, "He's back."

"Who's back?" Rory asked him impatiently, but gently.

The Doctor gave a somnolent sigh. "The Master."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N**: Second part! I don't know what the Master is planning _exactly_, but, I'll tell you, it won't be as dumb as his plan in "The End of Time". And, look, I even changed it to "In-Progress".

You see, I don't think that the Eleventh Doctor is as forgiving as the Tenth Doctor. Ten wasn't forgiving, at the beginning (see: the end of "The Christmas Invasion"), before he went on his "HUMANS ARE BRILLIANT! HUMANS ARE GREAT!" tirade and became less dark, but, I think, that Eleven is dark (see: the end of "The Beast Below") and once you've hit your three strikes with the Doctor, you're out. No questions asked. I mean, c'mon (SPOILERS!), if he turned the human race into a homicidal Silence killing machines then, surely, he would only give the Master one try (in both of their new bodies) before the Doctor had it. "New body, clean slate. Mess up once, you're done."

Once again, I own nothing. If I did, the Doctor and Amy would be together and Cumbermaster would have happened _ages _ago.

* * *

><p>"Who's the Master?" Rory asked his brows knotted in thought.<p>

"He sounds a bit pretentious, if you ask me—calling himself the Master", Amy muttered not quite under her breath. They were back on the TARDIS; the Doctor wanted to get out of that abandoned Marxian ship before they "booby-ed" into another trap. When they had arrived back on the TARDIS, the Doctor immediately went to "fixing his engine", as Amy had sarcastically yelled at him.

"Nobody of consequence", the Doctor said lightly, quickly punching in a destination. "Where to?" he asked them in a cheery voice, his hands clasped together. "How 'bout the Vif planet?" He didn't wait for their responses before he spun around and started to pilot the TARDIS. "They have emerald encrusted frogs that have the _loveliest _singing voices. The voices of angels, really. I was thinking we could gather a bunch up and make a choir"—

"_Doctor_", Amy called out his name, sternly, her tone taking the tone of a mother, so the Doctor stopped right in his tracks. She leaned against the consoler, Rory close behind her. "He's not a nobody—you wouldn't be like this if he wasn't somebody. Now, please, tell us who he is."

The Doctor rested his hands on the consoler, heaved out a sigh, "The Master is a Timelord." He glanced at Amy out of the corner of his eye and through his brown bangs, waiting for her retort. But, she just carefully studied him, waiting for him to continue, her mouth set in a straight, firm line.

It was Rory who broke the uneasy silence. "Well, that's good, yeah?" Rory quipped, taking another step closer to his wife.

"No, definitely not", he went back to leaping about the control pad. "He's an enemy—a bad guy, although I wish he wasn't."

"Okay, my mistake, it's not good", Rory nodded sheepishly.

"So, how dangerous is he? Are we talking Daleks? Weeping Angels?" Amy asked the Doctor in a confident and playful voice. "On a scale from one to ten, what is he?"

The Doctor thought for a moment; twisting his mouth, wagging his eyebrows, and bobbing his head in contemplation. "I'd say, on the level of menace and threat to the universe—he's a nine." He looked at Amy for a fleeting moment before he continued leaping about the consoler, messing with the controls. "He's the Joker to my Batman, the Moriarty to my Sherlock. He is exactly like me—but evil and all that."

"But, he saved you", Rory said, hope edging in his voice. "That's something, eh?"

"You don't know him, Rory...you don't know what he's capable of." The Doctor rested his hands on the control panel again and then continued in a weary, sad voice, "We grew up together; went to the Academy together—I mean, I suppose, I shouldn't blame him _entirely _for all the bad things he's done, but...it's hard not to. You see, he's had the sound of a banging drum in his head since he was a child, slowly turning him insane. If he's the same person he was before, that means he only saved me because he's saving it up for something big. I don't know if they're gone or not, but the never-ending drums in his head can't be wholly blamed for his evil deeds", the Doctor said quietly, but darkly, looking down at the controls.

"But, Doctor", Rory said, his voice straining, "You always make it seem like everyone deserves another chance."

"Yes, they do—but what seems like a million chances is far too much. I'm tired of getting my arse kicked by that man because I keep believing that _this _time, he'll see the light and become good. In my nine hundred and so years of living, I've come to the conclusion that we all have a choice—we can be either good or evil. _Timshel _is the Hebrew word for it, if I remember correctly..._'thou mayest, thou mayest not_'. It says that the way is open. We're all capable of great good and, if that's true, we're all capable of great evil as well. He's made his choice, time and time again."

"The great choice", Amy muttered.

The Doctor continued as if he hadn't heard her, "If the Master has _really _turned over a new leaf, as I've been hoping for hundreds of years, I need to hear it straight from him and actually see it through his actions. It's all him...it's always been him." The Doctor continued to work and muttered in a low voice, "Although, I don't know what I'd be without him"—

Amy interrupted him. "'For what is Evil but Good—tortured by its own hunger and thirst? When Good is hungry, it seeks food, even in dark caves, and when it thirsts, it drinks even of dark waters'", Amy quoted knowingly, nodding.

"Yes", the Doctor said, trying to keep the impressed look off his face, before he went back to work.

"So", Amy stepped next to the Doctor, "what's our next move? Are we going to track him down?"

The Doctor studied Amy intently for a moment before turning back to the TARDIS and patting the control panel, gently. "No, no. We always find each other. Somehow, someway, we run into each other. Besides, if he wants to be left alone, I'll leave him alone. It's once he starts his plotting and scheming that I'll have to step in."


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N**: _Really _long chapter! Say it's an act of kindness as Doctor Who that was on tonight was good 'un!

Minor, teensy weensy spoilers from "The Doctor's Wife"!

Once again, I own nothing. If I did, Daleks in Manhattan would have _never _happened.

* * *

><p>Somehow, someway happened very quickly for the Doctor. Within a week (relative time), the Doctor and the Master met each other again. The Doctor had taken the Ponds to New York City on August 14, 1945, to celebrate V-J Day, as they had just ended a thousand year war between the Batus and the Lintangs and, the Doctor thought, they needed to celebrate this happy occasion, but in a manner they were more familiar with and not on a planet where the custom, in times of great joy, was to bang one's head against the table.<p>

"Besides"—the Doctor said as he gave the Ponds a gleeful smile and flickered some switches to go towards the 1940s—"I have the _strangest _craving for a banana daiquiri. That's new."

Once they had touched down in Times Square—amid the partygoers and gala—the Doctor immediately lost sight of Amy and Rory. "No matter", the Doctor muttered to himself, somewhat blending in with the blissful crowd, as he trudged to a bar for a daiquiri, a remnant of his previous regeneration. Somehow, the throng of people had pushed him into a series of alleys and, not knowing New York City, the Doctor instantly became lost. "Right", he told himself. "Lost, but fine. If I just keep following these alleys and head towards the sound of the festivities, I'll be fine."

However, due to either bad luck or the Doctor's _impeccable_ sense of direction, he, instead, found himself in an old apartment building, as he thought that this would be a shortcut. "Right", he told himself again, "I should _really _take a GPS sort of thing with me the next time I go _anywhere _I'm not familiar with." He spun around and walked back to the door in which he entered. He gently turned the knob, but it wouldn't open. He turned it again, harder, but, yet again, it wouldn't budge. He quickly took out his sonic screwdriver from his tweed coat pocket, but was stopped by a low, cool, baritone voice from behind him.

"It's deadlocked."

All at once, a shiver went down the Doctor's spine and his mouth curved into a giddy smile. "Not only that", the Doctor said coolly and spun back around to face the voice, "It's made out of wood."

The voice was coming from the man who had saved the Doctor from the Monty gas a week earlier—the Master. "Extra precautions", he said offhandedly. "Hello Doctor", the Master greeted taking a step towards the Doctor.

"Hello Master", the Doctor responded.

"I always _love _it when you say my name", The Master smirked at him. "Do you get the same feeling I do when I say your name?" The Doctor didn't respond; they were both sizing each other up and the Doctor was strangely reminded of the showdowns one would see in Westerns between the Sheriff and the Villain.

"See you're a ginger", the Doctor said, trying to keep the envy out of his voice, cutting through the uneasy silence that had followed.

"Why yes", the Master drew his hand up to his mop of orange hair and ran a hand through it. "And I've also got eyebrows", the Master oppugned the Doctor's lack of eyebrows by smoothing down his right eyebrow with a finger.

"Rude and ginger", the Doctor muttered out sullenly. "Not fair." The Master gave a smug smirk at him before the Doctor noticed something different about the Master. His eyes were more focused and clearer than they had been in years. _'It could just be chalked up to a new body, but no—I've never seen his eyes this sharp before.'_ The muscles in the Doctor's shoulders and the grip on his screwdriver tightened when the realization hit him. His teeth clenched before he asked, in a strange meek voice, "The drums? Are they gone?"

His muscles tightened even more in anticipation when the Master casually shoved his hands in his coat pockets. "Yes—they're gone", he finally said simply, with no hint of emotion.

The Doctor's shoulders sagged in relief and he let out a soft, "Thank goodness."

"I don't know why_ you're_ so happy about it, dear Doctor", the Master flashed a pearly white smirk at the Doctor. "If anything, the absence of the drums makes future events and conflicts between us, in your favour, even worse and shifts the balance of victory in mine—no more distractions, no more disturbances, and no more agitation", he said carefully.

The Doctor snapped at action to that and his muscles immediately resumed their stiffness. "What do you mean?" he asked slowly and cautiously.

"Oh, don't play coy with me Doctor—we can tell each other anything, right?" The Doctor didn't respond, but the Master noticed the slight flex of the Doctor's fists as if he was going to attack him at that moment. The Master gave him another smirk, one reminisce of the Cheshire Cat. "I think clearer now—I think bigger now", the Master glanced down at the ground and leisurely took a step. "With no more _taptap-taptap _of the drums, my mind is free and sharper than ever. Really, I'm an entirely new man and it's not just the body. The universe is _mine _for the taking, Doctor. And, oh"—he shyly looked back up at the Doctor—"I do _love _me some redheads", he said in a playful, flirty voice.

"Don't you _dare _touch Amy", the Doctor furiously snapped at him, dark clouds coming over his blue eyes. "Or I'll"—

"You'll what, Doctor?" the Master interrupted him and narrowed his blasé cat-like eyes at the Doctor. "I _much _prefer your previous regeneration, if you ask me. He was more amusing with his talk about us being the last two Timelords and how 'We have to stick together!'" The Master paused for a moment, "_Much _more entertaining. Although, your bow-tie _is _very amusing—I mean, c'mon, a bowtie?"

"Hey! Bowties _are _cool", the Doctor automatically and quickly retorted back, used to this by now. But, immediately, he mentally flogged himself for getting distracted and, so, he continued in a threatening voice, "And, whatever it is you're thinking of doing, don't. I'm giving you one free pass. New body, clean slate. Mess up once, you're done."

The Master just narrowed his eyes back at the Doctor before giving a practiced chuckle. "I _was_ wrong—this regeneration seems more _delightfully _interesting than the last. Much more menacing and prone to violent outbursts. No wonder the ladies goes _gaga_ over you." To anyone else, his words would sound good-humored and teasing, but, to the Doctor, his words seemed planned and cold.

_'As if he planned this whole thing—but how does his plan end?'_ the Doctor thought and a frown appeared on his face.

An upward curve appeared on the Master's lips, as if he knew, what the Doctor was wondering. "Spoilers!" he shrieked River's catchphrase. "Isn't that what the dear Professor says?"

"No touching _her_ either", the Doctor said severely, something boiling in the pit of his stomach.

"But, you hardly know her! Are you telling me that you trust _her _more than you trust me?" the Master yelled at him, fake hurt shining through his eyes and voice. The Doctor, once again, didn't reply. The Master pointed to himself and said in a fake bewildered and slow voice, "I, for one, am shocked."

The Doctor let out a sigh, as if to signal a digression, "I assume you have your own TARDIS again?"

"Yes, I procured a TARDIS", he patted a red telephone box that the Doctor just noticed next to the Master, "Unlike some people—who shall not be named—that stole theirs."

"_Borrowed_. And the TARDIS and I have come to the understanding that we _stole _each other", the Doctor clarified. "Besides, I willing to bet that, by some hook or by crook, you obtained your TARDIS in a similar, dishonest manner as well."

The Master tapped his chiseled nose with a finger and gave a smirk, "I'm not saying anything, Doctor."

"Tell me your plan then!" the Doctor vociferated at the Master, pointing at him.

The Master smiled fondly at him, "One day that'll work—I'm sure of it. _Nevertheless_, you'll know of my plan soon enough, dear Doctor. But, I don't want to give it up too soon, you see."

"Just a hunch and all", the Doctor started slowly, "But does this plan somehow involve you killing me?"

"Why, yes—yes it does", the Master said simply. "Not yet, though."

"But why not? Why don't you just kill me now? Get it over and done with—me being alive and aware of your presence will, if anything, delay and, inevitably, foil your schemes of universe domination", the Doctor shifted his weight onto his other foot. "Or destruction", he quickly added.

"No, no. I'm saving it up for something big", the Master cocked his head, "Why do you think I rescued you from the Monty gas?"

"'Cause we're friends! The last two of our kind—those are the two reasons why I'm giving you a warning...stop whatever it is you're planning. It will _not _end well", the Doctor replied darkly.

The Master let out a sharp laugh, "Oh, Doctor, you'll have to do better than _that_! Moreover, I _could _kill you right here and—'cause why the hell not?—I'd also kill your companions, but I won't." His face then turned hard and he said frigidly, "So, take this as a friendly warning, my dear...back off."

"And if I don't?" A pit of fear was brewing in his stomach, although the Doctor was trying to smother it with reminders of his past victories over him.

"You're clever enough to know that there can be but only one outcome. It'd be a pity, really, but the ends justify the means." A small chuckle escaped the Doctor's lips and the Master's teeth clenched as he sought to control his anger. "You laugh now, but, I assure you, in an unaffected manner, that killing you would be a grief. It really would be."

"Eh, danger is part of my trade", the Doctor shrugged and said in a matter-of-fact tone.

"I'm not talking about danger—I'm talking about the inevitable and utter destruction of you and your companions. You stand in the way of my plans of universe domination. I completely intend to get rid of any and all obstructions and those who seek to derail these plans—back off now or you will be trampled under my full might", the Master said in a harsh and bitter voice.

The Doctor and the Master studied each other for a moment. The Doctor realized, by the sharp and determined look in the Master's face, that he had lost this round and would have to go collect Amy and Rory to plan out his next move. He had seen that face many times on Amy's and knew what victory of words, insults, and comebacks looked like. Therefore, he took in some air and finally said, haughtily, the only thing coming to his mind, "Although this has been such an _interesting _conversation, I _do_ have plans elsewhere." He turned sideways and shifted his eyes towards the deadlocked door.

"Pity", the Master said simply as he lifted up his laser screwdriver to the door and pressed the button; the lock on the door exploded. "But, I have done what I could." He then shifted his screwdriver to the Doctor, who, immediately, tightened his grip on his sonic screwdriver. "This is a duel now, Doctor, between you and me. If you aim to stop me and if you think you're clever enough to do so, hear me now—destruction will rain upon you and your companions."

The Doctor fully faced the Master again. "With you as well", he replied back, formally, but with a blank face.

The Master studied the Doctor's face, narrowing his eyes, and memorizing each curve and depression of his face. The Doctor could see and practically hear the cogs and grinds in the Master's head working, trying to beat back the hate and anger. "Ciao, Doctor", the Master said, uncaringly, before turning and entering his TARDIS.

"Arrivederci, Master", the Doctor said as the Master's TARDIS emitted a wheezing noise and dematerialized, before he turned and walked out the door, back to the celebrations.

* * *

><p>Amy gently sat her soda down on the table and gave out a small burp, both she and Rory decked out in 40s style clothing. "Ugh", she muttered, disgusted, wiping her mouth with a napkin, "I just tasted that bird we ate on planet Fredonia."<p>

"_That _was bird?" Rory asked in an astounded tone, leaning towards his wife. As soon as Amy and Rory had left the TARDIS, they had lost sight of the Doctor, but, figured, that they would find each other soon, like they always had. They immediately went to a nice-looking bar and ordered a round of sodas, not wanting to drink alcohol, especially in a foreign country and times, and, especially, since they had no idea where the Doctor was at and didn't want to risk getting drunk without a responsible adult present.

"If it barks like a dog and looks like one, then it is—and it looked like a bird, so, yes, _I'm_ calling it a bird", Amy said simply, nodding at her husband.

"It tasted more like fish to me", Rory shrugged and said quietly, not wanting to get into an argument with his fiery wife, but, wanting to get the last word.

"Fine—a compromise...'Chicken of the Sea' then", Amy sighed out. Marriage had, if anything, softened her a bit and she had quickly come to know what kind of arguments were pointless and of no use or value to argue about. This was one of them. "Doctor!" she called out when her eyes snapped to him, like a dog to its master.

"Hey", the Doctor greeted back to Amy in a strained cheery voice as he slipped into the chair next to her. "I'm glad I found you two unharmed."

Rory gave out a small chuckle, "Well, of course we're alright, Doctor. The war is over!" When Rory said that, there was a wave of applauds from around the bar. "They keep doing that whenever someone says that. It's like their cheer or something—I bet this is how mascots feel", Rory said excitedly and with a smile on his face. "One banana daiquiri please", Rory told the waitress as she passed by their table.

"There's something that we need to talk about. So we have to go back to the TARDIS", the Doctor urgently said, his voice rising so that he could be heard over the roar of the growing fête.

"We can talk about it here, can't we?" Amy asked the Doctor, her lips ready to turn into a pout.

The Doctor heaved out a weary sigh and closed his eyes. He didn't exactly want to argue with Amy over something as trivial as where would be the most appropriate setting for this discussion. "I guess here is as good as a place as any", he muttered out in a resigned voice. "I just ran into"—The Doctor was interrupted by the waitress. "Thank you", he muttered quickly, examining his drink. On second thought, he didn't want a banana daiquiri anymore. Banana daiquiris, like martinis, were a happy drink—you drank them when you were happy, not when you were depressed or beaten like the Doctor was feeling at the moment. In times like that, you drank whiskey, but, when you were really depressed or beaten, as the Doctor was about to feel like as the bar became more crowded with happy partygoers, you drank beer. The Doctor despised beer and, thus, was the reason why he only drank it when he was down in the dumps. It made him feel even more miserable, even if he didn't deserve to.

"I just ran into the Master", the Doctor repeated himself, loud and tired. "And, just as I suspected, he hasn't"—somebody bumped into the table, almost causing his drink to spill on his lap. He looked up at Amy and Rory, annoyance burning in his eyes. "Could we _really _take this someplace else?"

"Yeah", Amy said immediately, standing up. "Sorry 'bout that", she was apologizing for both their delayed, but needed departure and the almost spillage of his banana daiquiri in his lap, although the latter was not even her fault. "C'mon Rory."

"Oh, alright", Rory stammered out and hastily stood up. They rushed back to the TARDIS, them really being the only people in New York with scowls and worried creases on their faces.

"Alright", Amy said, when they entered the TARDIS, plopping herself onto the couch. "You ran into the Master and—?" Rory quickly joined her on the couch and the Doctor stood across from them, leaning against the control panel.

"And, he's back to his old ways", he said simply.

"World dom"—Amy started, but the Doctor interrupted her.

"Universe."

"Universe domination", she corrected. "So, what are we going to do then?" she leaned forward, her hands clasped together to stop herself from shaking in fear.

The Doctor promptly turned around and started pushing buttons and pulling levers. "_You two _are going home—going home to have babies and live a _very _long, good, happy life", he swiftly said.

"What!" Amy stood up, her face red with anger. "You're _not _taking us home, Doctor."

"I'm sorry, Amy, but that would be the best and safest option for you two", the Doctor said in a resigned voice. They were going to leave anyways—they always did—and, at least this time, he had the opportunity and the choice to let them go before they got hurt—or worse.

"Sucks to what's best and safest for us", Amy's fury boiled over in her tone. Her balled up fists were shaking in rage and the TARDIS seemed to be shaking as well, although it was not because of a malfunction.

"Amy, it's final. No ifs, ands, or buts", the Doctor retorted back in a stern voice. If Amy could sound motherly, then the Doctor could sound fatherly as well. Amy crossed her arms over her heaving chest and twisted her lips into a pout; tears of anger were threatening to escape from her eyes.

She finally sighed to calm herself down and went on the defensive. "You think what you're doing is right, but it's not!" Amy yelled back at him. "You kicking us out of the TARDIS is such a scurrilous act!" She placed her arms at akimbo; she'd yell at him and now it was his turn to yell back; she would get his reasons and motivations out of him soon—if only he would respond.

The Doctor spun back around to stare down Amy. "_You _find this scurrilous? I don't want you two to leave either, but it's what's best. I care for both of you two—my dear friends, but it has to be done." It was strange to hear such soft and caring words in an angry and heated manner.

Rory was still sitting on the couch when he lowly raised his hand to interject between the Doctor and Amy's standoff. "If I may interpose—why would we being away from you during your time of need be the _safest_ thing?" he asked, timidly.

"Because—because I don't want anyone else getting hurt by him! I've already broken and destroyed too many people 'cause of my cowardice and selfishness. I don't want any more people to get hurt", he said, gloomily, but firm and unmovable in his reasoning.

Confused looks crossed over both Amy and Rory's face. He probably meant to say the Master, not himself, they thought. Too many people were broken and destroyed by _him_—the Master...not the Doctor.

Rory sighed and reminded himself of his daily job. Rory had the most impossible job in the universe. He had to, somehow, convince one of the most stubborn, fierce people in the universe to either let them stay with him or that it would be best if she listened to another just as stubborn person and leave. Rory, on the other hand, well, he would always follow his wife. If she wanted to stay, then, he'd stay right with her; if she left, he'd go with her. He waited two thousand years for her—he'd do whatever she wanted.

"Doctor", Rory finally said as his mind went blank. He said it with a resigned melancholy. "Uh—don't you think you'll need our help? If that Master bloke is as bad as he seems to be, then you'll need all the help you can get", Rory said in an ever growing strong voice. He stood up and faced the Doctor, and, that's when they both realized that Rory was taller than the Doctor. "We know of the risks and dangers associated with traveling with you—you've told us this dozens of times", Rory's voice was firm and bold. Rory found this to be odd, but empowering; Doctor found this to be odd as well, but felt himself shrink under the weight of Rory's voice and the growing confidence in his stance; however, Amy found this to be completely sexy and was now turned on. "But, we're still here. Now, listen to me carefully Doctor", Rory lowered his voice as if he was going to tell a deep, dark secret to him, "You need help, and we're here for you. We always will be, you know this."

"Yeah", Amy added, moving beside her husband and grabbing his arm. "Besides, what's best and safest for _you _is to have us here", she gently told him.

The Doctor stared at his two companions. They knew the risks and willingly and bravely accepted them. He didn't know whether humans, in general, were loyal or incredibly dumb. He let out a tired sigh and placed a hand to his forehead, massaging it, "I'm getting too old for this, so fine. You can stay—but, don't say I didn't warn you." He turned around and set the ship on autopilot, knowing that the TARDIS would take them wherever and whenever they were needed.

* * *

><p>Me telling you to review won't get you to review, eh? So, don't review please.<p> 


End file.
